Chapter 3: Find Her

Oliver's POV 

I woke up with a headache, the kind that drilled into my temples like a sledgehammer. My mouth tasted of stale whiskey, the room spinning in a hazy blur as I opened my eyes. I hadn’t meant to drink that much—hadn’t meant to do anything that night, really. 

The previous evening was a blur of frustration and longing, moments of blurred faces and voices. And then, her—whoever she was. Her scent lingered in the sheets, sweet and comforting.

I looked over at the empty side of the bed.

Had she left already?

I sat up slowly, groaning as my muscles protested. My eyes drifted to the money I had kept on the nightstand which was no longer there. 

Obviously, she took all of it. I had no intentions of giving her all, but nevertheless…

I had a quick bath, changed my clothes and checked out of the hotel room. I had only one place in mind to go to this morning; the hospital where my wife, Daisy lay.

*****

I sat in the sterile hospital room, my gaze fixed on Daisy. The steady beep of the machines was the only sound in the quiet space, and it felt like an oppressive weight pressing down on him. 

My wife, once a vibrant woman full of life, now lay motionless in that bed. The doctor had spoken plainly—her condition was severe, and the likelihood of her ever waking up was slim.

She had survived a plane crash last week on her way back from Australia to secure a modelling deal.

I couldn’t fathom what my life would be like without her, though it wasn’t for the reasons most people would assume. Daisy had always been the face of my life—graceful, poised, everything I needed her to be. 

But now, with her in a coma, it was no longer just about losing the woman I married. It was about losing my position, my empire, my reputation.

My company relied heavily on the image they projected to the public. A powerful billionaire, a successful businessman, with the perfect wife. People expected that. They needed that. 

If the world learned that Daisy might never wake up, it would send a shockwave through his empire. Questions would arise. Speculation. Gossip. And it was never good for business to have your personal life questioned, especially when it involved the wife of a billionaire—one who had twin daughters who, at only two years old, would need more than just a father. They would need a mother.

I felt a pang of guilt, but I quickly suppressed it. Daisy had always been strong. She was a fighter. Maybe she could pull through. Maybe things would go back to normal.

But what if they didn’t?

I stood and walked over to the window, staring out at the city skyline. That’s when the memory of last night resurfaced. The woman. The one whose face I couldn’t remember clearly, yet whose presence lingered in my mind. 

She had been so familiar, so… different. Now that I think of it, she had Daisy's eyes, height and body shape.

The only difference was that she looked pale, lean and tired compared to my wife, Daisy. 

Why had I slept with her? What made me do it? Was it the desperation to feel something, anything, other than the cold, empty void Daisy’s coma had left behind?

I couldn’t stop thinking about her. The way she felt, the way she moved, the way she looked at me.

I snapped back to reality, I'm was not about to let this mystery remain unsolved. I needed to know who she was. Why she’d been there. What her connection to me might be. 

“The woman I was with last night, find her,” I instructed my assistant as soon as I left the hospital. “I don’t care how—just find her. I need to know who she is.”

—

Three hours later, I stood in front of the wide window of my office, staring down at the city below, my fingers tightening around the glass. 

Then they brought her in.

Daphne Reid. Twenty three years old, worked as a baker in a local bread factory, has an aged mother who needs surgery and a toxic marriage she was clearly trying to escape. I had already done my research. My men had gathered all the details they could find. The pieces fell into place too perfectly.

She stood there, uncertain and confused, with her eyes darting around my office as if she were still trying to process why she was here. She looked exactly like Daisy. It was eerie. 

The resemblance was so striking that for a moment, I wondered if I was imagining things. 

I could see the same features, the same delicate bone structure. The same eyes. Even the way she carried herself, unsure but proud. The only difference was that this woman—Daphne—had an air of quiet resilience about her, something Daisy had never needed to develop in her comfortable life.

But it was impossible. Daphne couldn’t be Daisy. She couldn’t be the woman I married. Could she? Daisy never mentioned having a twin. Then how can this be explained?

I blinked and adjusted my thoughts, clearing my mind as I looked at her, trying to focus. 

“Sit,” I commanded, my voice smooth but firm. Daphne hesitated but did as instructed, settling into the chair across from my desk. 

She was nervous, which was understandable—after all, she had no idea why she’d been brought here, and I had no intentions of explaining my intentions just yet.

“You don’t know why you’re here, do you?” I asked, my voice cool as I studied her. 

Daphne shook her head. She hadn’t spoken a word yet. 

“I’m Oliver Whitaker,” I said, leaning back in my chair, carefully watching her reaction. I didn’t wait for her to respond. 

“You look scared, considering I had my men bring you here.” I smirked as I noticed her subtle shift in posture. She was processing the situation now.

“What do you know about me, Daphne?” I asked, my gaze hardening.

She frowned, a mixture of confusion and wariness in her eyes. “Nothing,” she said cautiously. “And I don’t know why you’ve brought me here or what you want.”

“Good,” I said with a half-smile, leaning forward slightly. “It’s better that you don’t know, yet.”

“I have a proposition for you,” I continued, my voice even, controlled. “An opportunity, really. You need money. You need to take care of your mother. I know that.”

“How did you…?”

Daphne’s eyes flickered with surprise, and her lips parted as if she wanted to talk, but I held up my hand to stop her.

“I can offer you that money. And more.”

Her brow furrowed in disbelief, but she didn’t speak.

“I need someone to act as my wife, for the time being” I said, my voice flat, but each word deliberate. 

“My real wife, Daisy, is in a coma. And while the doctors claim there’s little chance she’ll ever wake up, I can’t let the world know that. My company, my reputation—they rely on the image of a perfect family. A perfect marriage.”

I paused, letting the gravity of my words sink in.

“I need someone who will take care of my kids — twin girls. I can't raise them alone, you know.”

She was still dumbfounded and so I continued, “moreover, you look so much like her. I don't know how that happened but it's good. You're the perfect person who can take her place temporarily. You, Daphne.” I looked at her sharply, my eyes locking onto hers.

Daphne was silent for a long moment, her face a mask of disbelief. “You want me to pretend to be your wife?” she asked, her voice tight. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m very serious,” I replied, my tone unwavering. “This is a business arrangement, nothing more. I don’t expect you to fall in love with me.” I paused, my voice lowering. “But this could be your chance to change everything. To fix your life.”

Her eyes darted to the floor as she processed his words. I could see the wheels turning in her head. She was desperate. She had no choice. 

“I can’t... I don’t know if I can do that,” she said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. “I’m not... I’m not her. People will know. I can't possibly look exactly like your wife when we're not twins.” 

 “You don’t have to be her. You just have to pretend.”

A beat of silence passed between us, and then I added, “I can make sure your mother gets the surgery she needs, and I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of, including everyone you care about. I can offer protection from your deadbeat husband who will soon be looking for you. You’ll never have to worry about anything again.”

“What’s the catch?” she asked, her voice small.

“The catch is that you’ll be under my control,” I said, my tone not unkind but matter-of-fact. “You will do as I say. You will act the part of my wife. And in return, you get everything you’ve ever wanted. It's that simple.

He leaned back in his chair, watching her closely. “So, what do you say?”